A Russian in Hong Kong

The beginning of the story looked something like this.

The beginning of the story looked something like this.

I met a girl, European. Maybe Russian, I couldn’t be sure.
She was arguing politely with customer service
About the price deductions on her octopus card
I was next to her, waiting to top up my own.

Eventually, she understood, and apologized for making me wait.
‘Oh it’s fine, it was interesting’ – I responded with reflexive social automation.
At this point I looked away from her. Acknowledging me makes me blind.
She explained the situation in detail, none of which I understood
Or listened to, I suppose they’re one of the same.
‘Ah yes, this subway is a little different to the ones in other cities’

The man looked at my card and money, declared ‘minimum 50’
‘Oh, let me just go to the ATM then’ I responded in miniscule panic
(From being confronted)
‘Such as that, for example’ I sneered jokingly at the European girl.
She probably smiled or made some kind of jocular sound.

As I walked the other way ‘Have a good trip’ she advised.
I muttered something, half looking back, something polite.
She would never know.
That’s how I roll.

But suddenly, I realized. I’m alone for the day, I had no plans.
I called her, caught up with her. I asked where she was going.
I asked to go with her. She said sure.
Introductions began.

We went to Causeway Bay, on the blue line we were already on.
We talked. All day, all night.
I had opportunities to have a good look at her during this time.
She was tall, not much shorter than my 6 foot build.
Maybe 3 inches shorter.
She was that sort of natural blonde that is a common generalization of Europeans.
She was Russian. I showed off my language skills.
I have studied lightly for months.
She was impressed and I was happy about that.
She had soft skin, and a soft voice. Exotic and delicate.
She had good fashion, with jeans and an interesting top of which I forget the details.
She was fascinating, perfect and made me consider a totally different,
Spontaneous
Life change.

Well, it turned out she had a hotel with two beds and offered to share the cost.
I agreed, but we only used one bed.
I argued the next day that the contract was void since I didn’t use my allotted space.
She kept the deposit. The deposit was my soul.
We have arranged to meet again, in Europe. That is where I will go next.

 

 
Well, I would go, but the truth of this story ended at the forth stanza.

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